Free The Merchant of Venice Beach by Celia Bonaduce

the dance studio. Suzanna smiled brightly, but not too brightly.
I’m playing it cool, pretending I don’t know them.
They, too, seemed to be playing it cool. Either that, or they didn’t recognize her from class.
Neither of them looked at Suzanna as they glanced over the selections. Suzanna was torn as to what to do next. She didn’t want to risk turning them over to Fernando, in case it suddenly dawned on them who she was and they start discussing class (although this was seeming less and less likely as the seconds ticked by). But if she took their orders and they did suddenly mentally engage, she’d look like an idiot for not saying anything.
The decision was made for her, when Fernando, who had radar for new faces, came out of the kitchen.
“Hello, there!” Fernando said. “Welcome to the Rollicking Bun!”
Suzanna slunk away, realizing that she was not in jeopardy of being recognized.
“First time here?” Fernando asked.
Suzanna stopped, mid-slink. Was it their first time here? She strained to hear their reply, but she could detect only a murmur. She went back to the podium and tried to busy herself so that she could be where the action was but remain out of sight.
She listened while Fernando explained the various choices, which were:
CREAM TEA: Tea, scones (orange and raisin), jam, and cream
LIGHT TEA: Tea, scones and sweets (mini raspberry cheesecakes and chocolate-dipped strawberries)
FULL TEA: Tea, sandwiches (on mountain laurel bread!) scones, and sweets.
“We’ll have the cream tea,” Lauren said.
“Two cream teas, it is,” Fernando said, as he flipped their menus expertly to the back page where the tea selections were found. The Bun had a dizzying array of loose teas, and Fernando knew all of them by heart.
When Suzanna, Eric, and Fernando first got to Los Angeles, the three of them went to a Mexican restaurant where there were no menus. Instead, an old waiter would recite the selections. The waiter was entranced by his own descriptions as he led them through their choices. There was a beef tamale that “is a tribute to the corn fields of Mexico,” a tostada whose “lettuce is wet with the tears of the migrant workers,” and a chicken mole “whose white meat tastes like it was born in the sauce.” The food lived up to the hype and the three of them went back again and again. One day, they realized that the descriptions were always the same, and the magic started to wear thin.
One night, Eric joined them late and when the old waiter came over, Eric said absently, “Just give me the chicken that tastes like it was born in the sauce.”
They never went back after that, but Fernando embraced some of that old waiter’s theatrics, because he loved to show off his teas.
“What tea do you recommend?” Rio asked.
“Well, we have several excellent teas . . . our Jasmine Blossom Green is very popular, our herbal is Peach and we’re featuring a wonderful white. White tea is the rarest of all teas . . . and ours has some lovely nutty overtones.”
Suzanna’s mouth dropped open in shock. She couldn’t believe that Fernando was pulling out the white tea! That was their private stash! And why? Rio was obviously straight—it was written all over his disdainful face. But it was clear that, even given his sexual orientation, Rio had managed to cast his spell over Fernando.
Suzanna lost track of the conversation when Fernando lowered his voice to what he always thought was a sexy growl, but Suzanna thought made him sound like a gay James Cagney. She quickly grabbed a dust cloth and started swiping at teapots not far from Rio and Lauren so she could hear better. She knew she was taking her chances, but the thought of missing out on any utterance of Rio’s was too much.
Apparently she hadn’t missed anything, because when she tuned back into the conversation, it was still about tea.
“The Japanese Cherry is very special, too,” Fernando said.
“Do you have Earl Grey?” Lauren asked.
Suzanna tried not